one side of romance, hold the cliche
i’ve never been the sappily romantic type. i got a lot of hurt looks from my guy friends this weekend when i begged them not to get roses for their girlfriends, desperately trying to explain how flowers should be a thoughtful indication of the girl’s personality, not the first thing on display at the deli. living in new york, it’s easy to toe the line and take a girl to a nice restaurant, an opera, the ballet, snore, whine, bolt.
i haven’t really met the right guy yet, the guy i’ll love even more than i love this city. but they’ve got to go hand-in-hand. for instance, he’d:
…take me to the driving range at chelsea piers on a rainy day.
…know exactly how to get to that one part of roadway where you can see the planes roaring in to land at laguardia.
…never rush me when i stop for ten minutes to listen to a street performer.
and most of all, he’d:
…solve my bad day blues by picking me up at work with a flask of liquor in his coat pocket, take me to ride the staten island ferry, and play the time-honored “what’s their really dirty secret” passenger guessing game.
now that’s romance.